Creative Process

by Jodi Payne

  “Jesus, Owen.” Owen turned in his chair to look at Reese, and Reese could see that Owen’s cheeks were damp. “That was….” Reese shook his head, an author at a loss for words. But after a moment of searching in Owen’s tear-filled eyes, he found them. “Owen, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Owen gasped and dropped his bow. It clattered sharply on the hardwood floor. “Whoa.” Reese reached forward to stop him from dropping the cello too and set it carefully on its side. He suddenly felt like he should be regretting he said anything. Owen clearly wasn’t ready for that announcement. “I’m… I mean we can talk about it. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like—”

  Owen’s kiss cut his words off abruptly. “Shut up and make love to me,” Owen whispered.

  Reese blinked. Such a roller-coaster ride, his lover was. “Oh! Oh, right. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Owen repeated, pushing him backward toward the bedroom.

  “So, that was okay?”

  Owen nodded.

  “I mean, it’s really okay that I said that?” Reese let Owen steer him, his feet moving quickly. Owen’s hands were everywhere.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “Oh, good. Because I thought maybe I’d really stuck my foot in—”

  “Reese!” Owen barked, making Reese blink and pull back. “When a man says shut up and fuck him, you shut up and—”

  “Fuck him. Got it.” Reese took Owen by the shoulders and pushed him roughly into the hallway wall. He mustered every bit of confidence he could and planted a kiss on Owen’s lips, hard enough to bruise.

  He ran his hands over Owen’s chest and lower, pushing them into his sweatpants and slipping them around to cup his ass.

  “Reese.”

  Reese’s cock reminded him that the man he was kissing had the best ass he’d ever seen, and he started to move again, helping Owen step out of the sweatpants entirely and pulling him into the bedroom. “Bed,” he said softly but firmly, moving toward his bedside table and fishing out a rubber and the lube.

  Owen moaned but didn’t say anything as he climbed up on the bed and stretched out flat on his back. Reese’s hunger grew, and his hands started to tremble as he dropped his sweats and smoothed on the condom. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, to keep control. Owen loved it rough and fast—hell, they both did—but Owen got plenty of that. Not this time, Reese told himself. He was a grown man who had just told someone he was in love, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to show Owen just how much respect he had in him.

  Owen was still and quiet, but his eyes were glued to Reese, watching every movement as he slicked himself and then offered Owen two fingers, pressing them against Owen’s very willing ass. Owen hissed softly as Reese pushed his fingers beyond the tight ring of muscle, slicking and stretching him, making him arch and moan.

  Owen was definitely aroused but relaxed and willing, and every time Reese lifted his eyes, Owen’s were on him. Finally he moved over Owen, settling between Owen’s bent knees. “You,” Reese said, and Owen nodded.

  “You.”

  Reese hooked one of Owen’s legs over his shoulder, slipped his fingers around his own erection, and guided himself in slowly. He forced himself to breathe and kept his eyes locked on Owen’s until his hips were flush with Owen’s ass. A long groan escaped him, but he held himself off a little longer, long enough to kiss Owen deeply. Owen returned his kiss but was the first one to pull away and gasp for breath. “Reese, please.”

  Reese nodded. He was aching and stiff as stone, but he started off slow, rocking into Owen with long, measured strokes. His eyes narrowed, and he hissed his approval as Owen’s hand went to his own cock and started to stroke. “Stunning.” Reese felt the desire, the need coiling in his belly and the heat moving up his spine, and picked up the pace. Owen’s ass clung hotly to him, and Owen’s needful but wordless sounds filled Reese’s ears. “Fuck,” Reese swore finally as he started to feel his careful control falter.

  “More. Please!”

  Reese shuddered and grunted. Damn Owen and his pretty begging.

  “Nothing like this. Like you.” Owen had clearly regained some of his own composure, and Reese could feel the tables turning, as they inevitably did. Owen’s hand sped up, gracefully working up and down his shaft. The closer Owen got, the tighter and the more intense his hold on Reese became. Reese’s control was fading, slipping through his fingers, shattering.

  “Reese! Come on, babe. Give me more, please!”

  Reese cried out, utterly betrayed by his body, and his hips started to slam against Owen, the sound of skin meeting skin loud and echoing in the big room. He knew he was grunting and panting, and he couldn’t stop himself from trembling as his climax rose, rumbling just on the edge of lost, just on the safe side of insanity.

  Owen’s body jerked up off the mattress, and he shot hard, crying out as if maybe it had caught him by surprise, and how fucking beautiful was that? “Oh! Fuck!”

  Oh fuck, was right. Owen’s ass clamped down around Reese like a vise, and suddenly there wasn’t air, there wasn’t anything, there was just his orgasm. It sliced through his body, all edgy and bright, and on its heels sound returned like a freight train roaring at full speed in his ears.

  He must have cried out, he must have shouted something that startled his lover, because the next thing he knew Owen’s hands were on him, stroking and soothing, Owen’s voice comforting and steady. “Shhh,” Owen told him. “It’s okay, babe. You’re okay.” Reese’s vision was blurry and he blinked to clear it, but it didn’t help. He took a couple of shuddering breaths and then tried again, and when it still didn’t work, he swiped at one of his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Owen was still trying to soothe him. “Hey. Hey, Reese. Babe, it’s all right. You’re okay.”

  Jesus Christ. Tears.

  Reese swallowed hard and tried to steady himself. He was very aware of Owen’s efforts to calm him, and he tried to apologize, but words weren’t coming easily. “S-sorry. I….” He tried to get control of his breathing. He listened to Owen’s soft words and tried to let them in. Owen shifted, and Reese felt Owen’s fingers on him, dimly aware that Owen had removed the rubber and left him for a moment. Reese rolled over on his back and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  What the fuck was this? This had never happened to him before. Was this normal? He felt like he was losing his mind.

  Owen returned with a warm washcloth, and Reese sighed. He was starting to feel calmer now. His heart had stopped pounding and breathing was easier.

  “Better?” Owen sat up and leaned over Reese, looking down at him with a smile.

  “I am so sorry,” Reese told him. “I have no idea what—”

  “Shhh. It’s okay.” Owen played with Reese’s hair.

  “It is?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s happened to you?”

  “Yes, Reese. What’s the matter? Are you too macho to cry?” Owen laughed gently.

  Reese just looked at him. “I just felt… I don’t know.”

  “Overwhelmed?” Owen asked. Reese knew immediately that was what it was. But he didn’t understand why.

  “Exactly. Like I was… like you were….” He rubbed his eyes again. This was insane.

  “Too much.”

  “All of it. Too much.” Reese nodded.

  “And is it?”

  Reese was genuinely confused. “Is what?”

  “Is love too much?”

  Reese felt the weight of that question, and he searched Owen’s eyes, looking for a reason why he shouldn’t be perfectly honest. He didn’t find one. “No. No it’s not.”

  Owen’s smile grew and lit up his eyes. He kissed Reese gently and snuggled down next to him, resting his head on Reese’s chest. “That. That whole thing? That was fucking epic.”

  Reese chuckled. He hated “epic” almost as much as text speak. “That was… epic. It was astounding actually. I’ve never felt… that much. I felt like ther
e was something I needed you to understand.”

  “Oh, Reese. Lover. I get it, believe me. I understand. The same words, the same feelings have been on the tip of my tongue for—”

  “Really?” Reese interrupted. Owen nodded, and Reese pulled him closer. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “Good. I don’t want you to yet.”

  They both went silent for a while, lost in their own thoughts. But Owen broke the silence finally with a question.

  “Hey, Reese? Where are you from? Like, where were you born?”

  “Vermont.”

  “Wow. Not what I expected.”

  “No? What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere more metropolitan, I guess.”

  Reese smiled. He got that a lot. “My mom and I moved to the suburbs near here when I was in high school. How about you?”

  “Born in Northern California, raised there too.”

  “Oh, wow. You’re a long way from home.”

  “I guess so. Depends on what you consider home.”

  Reese caressed Owen’s back with one hand. “Your parents are still there?”

  “Yeah. Mom’s got a medical practice, and Papa’s been teaching at the same high school since I was a kid.”

  Reese nodded. “Cool.”

  “What did you mean when you said you were a bastard?”

  Reese laughed. He was actually surprised that hadn’t come up again until now. “My married biological father had an affair with my very young mother.” He shrugged.

  “Oh, wow. So your mom raised you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your dad?”

  “The sperm donor? I don’t even know who he is.”

  “Really? Your mom never told you?”

  “Well, no. And by the time I was old enough to really ask, it just didn’t matter. She was mom and dad by then, you know? He didn’t send any money or help her out at all, so it’s not like I would have had a relationship with him. By the time I was a teenager, I was just angry about it. Mom was working two jobs to pay the rent, and we struggled for everything. I probably would have just decked him if I ever actually met him face-to-face.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It was rough, but we made it.”

  “Where’s your mom now? Around here still?”

  Wow. Well, maybe he wasn’t so fine. Or maybe his emotions were just still raw, but he felt himself choke up, and he tried to answer Owen’s question without sounding like it. “She’s gone now. She passed away a year ago.”

  “Oh, babe.” Owen sat up. “Just a year?”

  “Just a year. I got through that milestone a couple of weeks before I met you.” This definitely was not the conversation he wanted to be having right now.

  “God. I’m so sorry.” Owen snuggled back down again.

  “So, when did you start playing cello?” Reese changed the subject, and Owen, kindly, let him.

  “Wow. Well, I didn’t actually start until I was fourteen. I was kind of a loner kid, and I think my parents must have been concerned about me going into high school because I remember Papa telling me that one of my teachers suggested music. I started with the violin and hated it, then switched to viola, then the cello. I sat down to play it and never looked back. It just clicked with me.”

  “Gave you something to do.”

  “Kept me out of trouble, gave me something to do, yeah. But more than that, I finally felt like I belonged someplace. Until then, I hadn’t really found my crew yet. I was this half-black and half-Latino kid but didn’t really identify with either community. I kind of felt like I didn’t belong anywhere, you know? I found a place in the school orchestra, and I felt I really fit in. It was kind of life-changing for me.”

  “Wow. So, then the conservatory?”

  “Yeah. I auditioned. I was so nervous because I really didn’t want to do anything else. I thought I’d blown it, but I got a letter a week later and, well, again, life-changing.” Owen sounded so happy.

  “What an incredible thing, to just know where you fit.”

  “When did you figure it out?”

  “Hm. Hard to say. I was in this awesome LGBT youth group by the time I was thirteen, so I’d found my people early.”

  Owen smiled. “Nice.”

  “I guess, it was just my normal. Kids can be evil, but you know how that goes.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Anyway, so I had that group. But the writing thing was much more subtle. I mean, I knew I had stories in my head. Characters. And I knew I had this weird obsession with murder mysteries and serial killers. But I didn’t set out to be an author, really. I just started writing things down, and then I started writing more things down, and the next thing I knew, I was on my way to college as a creative writing major. I still didn’t know until later that I was going to end up writing novels. I just knew I couldn’t stop writing.” Reese had worked his ass off to pay for college and, in fact, used much of the money he made on his first book to pay off his college debt.

  Owen snorted. “Creativity is a crazy thing.”

  “Hm. Yes.” Reese pushed up on one elbow, forcing Owen to slide off his chest and onto the bed. “And some of us have more of it than others.” He winked down at Owen.

  “You do all right.”

  Reese laughed. “We’re not working any more today, are we?”

  “I’m sorry. Work brain checked out for the day when someone said he thought maybe he was falling in love with me.”

  There was no way Reese was conjuring up any more demons today either. “Hm. I probably shouldn’t have said maybe.”

  “Oh. Not to worry.” Owen drew a finger down Reese’s chest. “I heard what you were telling me.”

  Reese kissed Owen gently. “Rehearsal tonight?”

  “Nope. Have you got plans?”

  “Nope.” Reese grinned. “Shower?”

  “Yes. Popcorn and a movie after?”

  “Maybe some pizza,” Reese suggested. And an extra helping of Owen for dessert.

  Chapter XII

  RINGING. A phone was ringing.

  “Phone.”

  Reese grunted and rolled over. “Yours.”

  “Yeah?” Owen fumbled around on the nightstand until he found his phone and put it to his ear. “’Lo?” He sat up. “Hello?” He said again in a raspy voice. He looked at his phone.

  A phone rang again.

  “Nope. Not mine.” Owen groaned and dropped his phone on the floor.

  “Fuck.” Reese stuck an arm out from under the covers and hauled his phone back underneath with him. What the fuck? Fucking morning was so fucking bright. “Yeah?” He was definitely hungover.

  “Reese?”

  Oh, crap. “Chad, I’m calling in dead.”

  “That’s fine. You can be dead today, but tomorrow we’re going to Chicago, right?”

  “Tomorrow.” Was there such a day? Did there have to be? What was Chicago?

  “Yes, Reese. On a plane. You and me. Convention?”

  Mother of God. “Yes, I remember,” he lied.

  “Good. Then you also remember that a car will be picking you up at 6:30 a.m.?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Reese.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Wake up!” Chad’s shout pounded him like a hammer, and it drove a spike of white lightning into Reese’s forehead. Reese sat up abruptly.

  “Oh God. Oh God, please don’t do that to me.” Reese was cringing like Chad had physically hit him.

  “Reese. Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Hungover?”

  “Yep. Yes. Mother of God, yes.” Absinthe. It had seemed like such a good idea when Owen opened the bottle.

  “Shush.” Owen whined from under his pillow.

  “Listen Reese, we have some business to discuss before tomorrow. Get some aspirin and a big glass of—”

  “Oh God. Here. Talk to Owen.” Reese put the call on speaker and dropped the phone on the b
ed before he ran for the bathroom, just making it to the toilet before he vomited his guts out.

  OWEN HAD managed to get himself out of bed and was making coffee when there was a knock at the door. He’d left Reese sprawled in bed; the poor guy was really a disaster. Not that Owen wasn’t hungover himself, but Reese was in a category all his own. It was possible he was still drunk.

  Owen looked at the door, then back toward the bedroom. When the knock came again, he decided he’d better answer it. It wasn’t until he’d already opened the door that he gave any consideration to what he was wearing. Or, rather, not wearing.

  “Well, that’s a hell of a greeting.”

  Owen blinked at the man at the door and then looked down at himself. “Oh crap.” He shut the door in the man’s face and hurried to the bedroom.

  There was more knocking. “Excuse me” came the man’s voice through the door. Owen pulled on Reese’s robe and ran back to open it again.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Can I help you?” The guy looked familiar, but he couldn’t place him.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m Chad. We met in a limo,” Chad said, inviting himself in.

  Owen blinked. “Chad. The publicist. Oh, I remember you now.”

  “Chad, the friend. You’re catching on. Are you hungover too?”

  Owen nodded sheepishly. “You called earlier.”

  “I did. Right before Reese ran off to toss his cookies. Or whatever he’d been drinking.”

  “Absinthe.”

  Chad look horrified. “Oh, honey. Did he not tell you about that god-awful weekend in Los Angeles? Don’t ever give that boy absinthe. Where is he?”

  Owen pointed to the bedroom. He felt very confused, and part of him was wondering whether he ought to be offended at Chad’s sudden, uninvited appearance.

  “Bring black coffee,” Chad ordered and headed for the bedroom, his dress shoes clacking on the hardwood floor.

  Owen stood in the foyer for a long moment, his own hangover making it difficult to think clearly. Finally he just decided to do what the man said. By the time he arrived in the bedroom with a big steaming mug of black coffee, Chad had Reese out of bed and was helping him into the shower. Reese was completely naked, but Chad didn’t seem at all interested in that. Owen cared a lot about that ass as it walked away from him, though. He went to see if he could help.